The Perfect Moon Tonight

He turned your way and saw something he was not looking for: both a beginning and an end.

After work I drove down to the Brushy Creek Lake and sat on the fishing pier, like I like to do a lot. It was sunset, and kind of cold. I smoked a cigarette on the pier and listened to Orange Sky and stared at the almost still navy water and the little reflection of the moon. I love Ryan. I love him, I love him, I love him.

I love myself, too.

I need to focus on myself. I am so scared of feeling okay. It's absolutely terrifying. I need imperfection. I REALLY do. It's what keeps me turning. I need the cigarettes, the DXM, the tears, the problems. But I want to learn how to balance them. What do I really want, more than anything? Right now, I want to be good. I want to make the people around me proud to know me. I want to be proud of myself. I need to analyze what I do and see if it's benefiting me but also remember: you don't have to be perfect. You don't have to do perfect things. Life doesn't need to be perfect. Ten years I need to sort through.

That night when I took over half a bottle of NyQuil and a swig of rubbing alcohol (that is so lame), I considered for a second, "What if I don't wake up?" It was a sad thought, because I didn't want to kill myself that night. I only wanted to get high. But after I drank it, I thought, what if my liver gets impaired and I fall into a coma in my sleep? What if this is the last time I'm awake? I thought about writing a note to my parents, just saying that if they found me dead that morning, that I wanted them and possibly all my close friends to read everything in my diaries and everything I've ever written. I wanted them to go through my room and find every secret I keep. I think that after I die, I want everyone to know everything about me. Like I'm opening up. Maybe I'm too scared to face the truth in life, so I will wait for it to come out in death. I still think it's healthy to keep secrets.